My Arkham Amour
by hideousnight
Summary: Dr Quinzel meet the Joker.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Own nothing, blah blah.**

**My knowledge of the Batman universe is incredibly limited; what I know is based on the Nolan films and the Arkham games, however I was so intrigued by the story of the Joker/Harley that I've done a bit of research on it, and been inspired to write this. My first fanfic, and first piece of writing I've done in a long time! If there are any errors I've made in terms of characters or anything please feel free to let me know and I'll see if I can do anything to change it! I may have bended timelines for this without really knowing (for example, I tried to figure out whether Amadeus or Jeremiah Arkham would have been around at the time but I figured Jeremiah would fit better into my story). Reviews would be greatly appreciated, as I said this is my first fanfic!**

**ok I know this isn't exactly an original idea but as it's my first fic I thought it would be best to do something safe and to establish my versions of Harley and Joker before I write anything else. I also think it's interesting to compare different versions of the story.**

Acting oblivious to the human saliva on her face, her smashed glasses on the floor and the overturned desk that was now spilling out pages and pages of patient bios, Dr Quinzel sat stiffly in her chair, motionless, until the Arkham guards finally dragged the screaming patient from the room. She remained frozen until the door slammed behind them, then immediately burst into tears, wiped her face and kicked the wrecked desk. A searing pain spread from her toes up through her shin and brought her quickly back to earth, just as Dr Arkham entered the room. He surveyed Dr Quinzel, blind to the chaos caused by the patient, whose name Quinzel had already forgotten.

_When she had first started her internship at the asylum nine months ago, fresh out of college, Harleen Quinzel had stayed up most nights, studying her patients' histories. She hadn't gone through years of hard studying, taunts from other students and the rigorous Arkham Asylum application process to just give up and rest on her laurels now. She had to prove that she could be a permanent doctor at the asylum. Not to Dr Arkham or the leading doctors; to be hired all you had to do was survive the year's internship. Which, after a life filled with exams and interviews, seemed easy to Quinzel; in reality, the asylum was lucky if they got one doctor out of the twenty interns they took on each year. There were only five interns left now. But Quinzel had beaten over 200 pupils on the psychiatry course for the first place at college, and was the only pupil on the entire campus to receive full marks in every exam she took. The reason Quinzel had applied for this internship was not the dazzling paycheque she expected at the end of it (although the numbers never ceased to make her dizzy when she checked her bank balance), but the fact she truly thought all her hard work would pay off and make a difference in her patients' lives. So she sat up each night, making notes on the next day's patients, analysing their crimes and lives to figure out what she had to do to fix them. _

These days, like with all the other doctors, Quinzel's patients were lucky if they heard their name mentioned in a session, indicating that she had bothered to pick their file up from the office. It was the same each day. Mummy issues. Violent upbringings. Rejected by their peers. Sexual dysfunction. Heartbreak.

Dr Arkham was still studying his intern's face, a little too long for her liking. Her patients could stare at her for as long as their eyes would stay open; she could always figure out what they were thinking. It usually featured her genitals or weapons. Sometimes both. They tended to vocalise these thoughts after she asked a question which they disliked.

But with normal people it was more difficult, and she'd never been able to feel comfortable interacting with others. Maybe he was thinking about how long she'd last at this internship. Or maybe he was thinking about how long he could last with her athletic legs wrapped around his waist.

Maybe normal people weren't that different from the mental lot after all.

Quinzel coughed, hoping the shock she felt at her own thoughts wasn't displayed on her face. Dr Arkham was a professional.

He finally broke the silence.

"I hope you weren't unsettled by anything Mr Francis said to you. He tends to react that way to the female doctors. We assume it was something to do with his…"

Quinzel interrupted him, "His mother, yeah, I already guessed. Don't worry about it. I've been called worse names outside of this place anyway."

Arkham gently scooped her glasses up, managing to avoid dropping any of the shards, and handed them to her. "I'm sorry to hear that, Harleen."

She didn't like him using her name. She instantly regretted her comment; she didn't want him to think the setting had become personal. She took the glasses and stayed silent, hoping he'd say whatever he had to quickly and leave her to tidy up. He hadn't looked away from her since entering the room. Was he examining her as if she were a patient? More importantly, had she brought her spare reading glasses with her today?

"How do you feel you're getting on here, Harleen?"

"Great… I guess."

"Be honest."

"My patients are all making small amounts of progress. Mr Francis has stopped soiling himself when he begins his sessions now." She was relieved Arkham had reminded her of the patient's name. "As for the others…"

"I wasn't asking about how the patients are, Harleen."

Dr Quinzel fell silent.

"Tell me about your life, Harleen. How do you feel you're doing? Is this where you thought you would be?"

"I've always wanted to help the criminally insane. I want to make a difference," she muttered. Was this a test? She hadn't prepared for this, and nothing made her feel more nervous than being underprepared.

"And do you feel that's what you're doing here? Are you helping them?"

He thought her work with the patients was useless. He was going to ask her to pack up and go. Had another intern made a false accusation against her to kick out the competition? Her head reeled with the millions of possibilities behind his words. She bit her lip to stop it from wobbling.

Dr Arkham didn't miss that flash of emotion. He took a step forward and softly grabbed her elbow.

"Harleen."

She stared at his hand. What was happening? She wished he would stop touching her. She wished he'd stopped calling her that.

He looked in straight in the eyes; there was no way she could avoid his stare at this distance.

"You're the best intern out of this bunch. Hell, you're the best intern I've seen in my entire career. But you've been slipping. I've been watching you since you started. You've stopped caring."

He was still holding her arm. He wasn't going to leave.

She swallowed. Her mouth was dry.

"This just isn't what I expected," she whispered.

He let go of her arm, took a step back and righted the desk before leaning against it.

"They never expect it. All these young people, your lives have been filled with success after success. The limited failures you've had only spurred you to try harder and succeed the second time round. But here, there are no successes. Sure, we get patients who, after intense sessions, seem cured. We let them out, back into the world. We feel proud of what we achieve. But they always come back."

He picked up a patient bio from the floor, finally taking his eyes off Dr Quinzel. She quickly wiped her face and smoothed her hair, an attempt to regain some composure.

"This guy has been released three times. Every time he comes back he's worse than ever. One day he'll finally kill someone, and we'll never have to release him again."

His eyes flitted back to her.

"We deliberately choose the patients who don't even have a chance of release for the interns. It may be cruel, but we have to teach you guys that this isn't a fun job. Mostly, you're not going to make a difference."

She couldn't believe what he was saying. "You- you deliberately try to crush our spirits? That's why they all drop out?"

"Better for you to drop out now than watch your whole life be destroyed. We've had our own doctors committed here after they realise the futility of what they're doing."

"Then why do we bother? Why do you bother?"

He stepped towards her again. "Not all of the patients are like the ones you deal with. Petty criminals fucked up from childhood, never admitting to themselves the things they've experienced. But you must have heard about some of the monsters we have in here. That's why we bother. We do our best to sort that lot out, keep them under control. Mere locks and bolts won't stop them if they get an idea into their head."

He was right in front of her face again.

"I like you, Harleen. You've got more potential than the rest of them. And I think you've realised you can't fix this lot. But you can help protect the normal citizens from the real fucking villains. But I need you to show me you have that kind of potential."

"I'll do anything. I'll fix Mr Francis if that's what it takes."

Dr Arkham laughed. "I thought we'd just established that this lot won't ever be normal. I'm not going to ask you to do the impossible, Harleen. I was thinking of something much easier. How about we discuss your career, just you and me? Over dinner?"

He lifted his hand to her face and held her chin in his hand. She tried to take a step back, but she'd already backed herself against the wall without realising. Arkham leaned closer to her face, until his lips were almost on hers. She pushed him back, shocked. She'd never been in a situation like this. She'd never had to deal with anyone trying to kiss her, much less someone she didn't want to kiss.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed.

Dr Arkham looked puzzled. "Don't you want to move up in this job?"

"Yes but I don't want to be your girlfriend!"

Dr Arkham burst out laughing. "Oh Harleen. I wasn't asking you to be my girlfriend, beautiful as you are. I guess you're a lot more innocent than I expected." Her cheeks blazed red in embarrassment. "This is how things work, Harleen. I give you the chance to move ahead in this place. And you give me something in return."

She froze, the blush quickly fading from her cheeks. He held her chin again.

"So, do we have a deal, Harleen?"

_Ever since she learned to walk, Harleen Quinzel had been a keen gymnast. Her mother had always told her to pursue that dream, rather than the academic route she had been forced to take by her own mother. But Harleen didn't see the point of athletics. What would the world gain from her cartwheels?_

Dr Quinzel slapped Arkham's hand from her face, stamped on his foot and somersaulted over his head and out of the door before he could react.


	2. Chapter 2

She cried herself to sleep that night. Her whole life had been dedicated to getting this job. She'd avoided friends; the only time she really communicated with people her age was during group assignments. She remembered in junior high making a huge model of the human body whilst the other two members of her group got to grips with each other's bodies on her sofa. And now her lack of experience with the human body was stopping her getting what she'd always wanted.

She woke up the next morning feeling even worse than the night before. She could barely drag herself out of her bed to do her morning exercise ritual, but without it her day wouldn't start right, and she needed to at least finish the month at the asylum to pay her rent until she could find another job.

That thought stopped her in her tracks and she slumped down onto her yoga mat. Find another job? How could she? This had been her dream. Always. She couldn't just give up now.

"You're Harleen Quinzel," she shouted, but her name reminded her of the way he said it. "You're Dr Quinzel. You've never given up. You can get through this."

She quickly jumped into her shower and then analysed her wardrobe. She picked a skirt today – the only skirt she owned. The kitten heels her mother had picked out for her for her sister's wedding. Racking her brains for other style tips provided by her mother, she remembered the gift she had received from her on her 18th birthday. Shaking, she pulled out the top drawer in her closet and lifted out what she was searching for.

_"You're a woman now, Harleen, even if you're not interested." Her mother handed her the wrapped box, and Harleen took it nervously. She doubted it was the set of encyclopaedias she'd asked for. She carefully undid the cellotape, taking care not to rip the paper. Her mother rolled her eyes at her neatness, something she'd certainly not inherited. Under the paper was a pale pink box. She gingerly lifted the lid and there was the same pale pink, but in tissue paper. Underneath the paper was something that was definitely not pink. Black lace and blood red._

_Harleen dropped the box. "Mother!"_

_Mrs Quinn rolled her eyes again and picked up the box. "Don't be scared of it, Jesus Christ. It's just some lingerie. You can't wear sports bras and boxers forever, you know."_

_"It's indecent!" Harleen cried, as her mother pulled out a heavily padded bra and matching French knickers._

_"I nearly bought you the thong to match instead."_

The underwear had stayed in its box since that day, unworn, with its tags on. It still made her feel nervous. But the whole situation was making her feel nervous.

"If you're going to do a job, make sure you do it properly." She declared to herself, pulling the scraps of lace on before getting dressed and marching to the asylum, straight to Dr Arkham's office.


	3. Chapter 3

When she arrived, there was another intern outside his office. A female intern. She had fiercely rouged lips and her hair bounced in curls. Her heels were at least two inches higher than Dr Quinzel's. She resembled the girl in junior high who threatened to smash the coffee table unless Harleen did the project all by herself, whilst she made out with her boyfriend on the sofa. Dr Quinzel suddenly felt ridiculous. Why was she attempting to beat these interns in something she knew nothing about? She was a good doctor, but she knew nothing about what men want. Putting on the underwear her mom had bought her and a pair of stockings that had irritated her all the way to work wasn't going to win Dr Arkham over and give her a better chance in this place. She smiled meekly at the intern and turned to walk away, when Dr Arkham opened the door.

"Come in, Charlotte – Oh! Harleen, I see you're back. Ready to face another session with Mr Francis?"

Dr Quinzel turned back slowly and nodded at him. He surveyed the skirt and heels and grinned.

"Check your office," he said. "You might find something you like. Now, Charlotte…"

The intern flounced into his room. He stared at her behind as she walked through the doorway, smiled at Quinzel, and returned to his office.

She quickly made her way to her office, mortified by his grin. He knew what she had planned to do. But he'd already found someone else. Someone better. Maybe he'd come back to discuss her 'potential' after he was done with Charlotte. Her walk turned into a sprint as the embarrassment flooded through her. She slammed her office door shut and tried to hold back the hot tears in her eyes, sinking into her chair.

The patient bios had been picked up from the floor and placed onto her desk. She sighed and stood up to move them into the correct drawers, when she noticed what was on top of the pile. A new patient.

"Highly disturbed patient. Name and age unknown. Extremely intelligent. Extremely volatile. Killed five doctors and responsible for the suicide of two. Escaped twenty-three times. Brought in after the murder of Sarah Gordon and attack on Barbara Gordon. Release date: never."

Dr Quinzel grinned, and restrained herself from cartwheeling across the room. She hadn't needed the lacy crap after all. She knew her own hard work could get her through anything.

She looked at the file again.

"You better prepare yourself for your new doctor, mister… Joker."


	4. Chapter 4

Twelve hours later and Dr Quinzel was curled in the foetal position in her bed, sobbing. The session with her first _serious _patient hadn't gone anything how she had imagined. She hadn't tried anything ambitious; she just wanted to establish a 'friendship' with him. Or at least to make him think there was a friendship there.

_"You're a fucking slut, doc." he had snarled, inches from her face, his eyes bloodshot and angry. "I know how you got me as your patient. Did you have to change those naughty stockings of yours after you'd been on your knees for Dr Arkham? Or was he more interested in Quinzel's quivering quim?" He'd paused after his joke, silently thinking over what he had said, before erupting into peals of laughter. Cackling like nothing Dr Quinzel had ever heard before._

And the reason it had got to her was because her patient was _right_. So she hadn't done anything for Dr Arkham, she'd earned her patient fair and square. But she had been willing to. Not only to cheat but to _use her body_ in order to get ahead.

She'd left work after the Joker had been dragged from her room, claiming to feel sick, a few short minutes after the session had begun. After his abusive outburst he didn't stop laughing that blood-curdling chuckle, ignoring Quinzel's attempts to calm him down, until she felt completely out of her depth and called in the guards. Since then she'd stayed in her bed crying. She didn't think she could have sunk any lower than how she had felt the night before.

So once again, she was, alone, in her Gotham flat, contemplating whether or not to quit. Where was she supposed to go from here? Her whole life had been leading towards this, her dream of being a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. Then what? She'd never considered what was supposed to come afterwards. The dream had always seemed so far away, even when she managed to get onto the internship.

A husband? Kids? She was 28 years old and the only kiss she'd ever had was from the boy who lived next door when he took her to prom. Because her mom asked him to. How was she supposed to find a husband when she'd never had a boyfriend?

Besides, she definitely did not want children. And she'd never been in love, so she didn't feel the need for a husband. No, her focus was always on her career. But now she was losing that.

She cried herself to sleep. Again.


	5. Chapter 5

What happened to the skirt, doc?"

She was back to work. She didn't want to come back. She didn't particularly want to ever leave her bed. But she was Dr Quinzel and she never gave up.

She had just entered her office to find her patient already sat on the sofa, which was somewhat of an unpleasant surprise. She had hoped to at least have time to make a cup of coffee and psych herself up before the creep's session.

She sat on her chair, ignoring his question until she had picked up his file, opened to the right page and filled in a sheet for today's session. Neatly. In pencil.

She peered at him over her glasses – a look she'd perfected in the mirror.

"I don't often wear skirts. And I feel I allowed you to make a wrong impression of me."

"Well that's a shame," he said, rising from his sofa. "Those legs were the reason I came to see you today."

He wasn't handcuffed to his chair. He could do anything. He'd killed five doctors. Why wasn't he handcuffed to his chair?!

He cackled, a laugh even more terrifying than the day before. "Wondering how I got here? Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you that. But I got up early this morning, got some mischief going; you'll find out soon enough. Anyway, thought I'd pop by here, see if you would like breakfast together. There's a great diner I know. Well, great if you ignore the roaches."

Dr Quinzel was confused. Confused and scared. "You escaped from your cell? And now you want me to break you out of Arkham?"

"Oh, only if you want to, doc. I could have easily found someone more willing… Or, someone who would become more willing. But I think you're my favourite in here. Isn't that nice? And like I said, we could go for breakfast together."

He was trying to freak her out. He probably did this to all the doctors, to see how long they could last. Sure, he killed five of his doctors. But two of them killed _themselves_.

Or maybe he was just trying to make her uncomfortable before he killed her. She was pretty certain she'd be dead before bed tonight.

"Don't worry, doc. I could never hurt _you_." He was kneeling on the floor directly in front of Dr Quinzel now, his face in hers. He was closer than Dr Arkham had been, but Quinzel certainly wasn't about to slap him away.

"Now, the guards will probably figure out my location in around three minutes. Obviously they've been searching everywhere else before this. Why would I be where I'm supposed to be? Why would a psychopath do the exact opposite of what a normal guy would do?" He cackled again.

"Why did you come here?" she asked, keeping her voice calm and strong. A talent she'd developed over the years. Maybe all the bullying had a use after all.

"Well, doc. Firstly I wanted to get some alone time with those fabulous legs of yours. Such a shame they've decided to hide today." He placed his hand on her calf. "I also wanted to see how you'd react. Most doctors would have screamed their girly little heads off and tried to attract the guards. But you know that screaming your girly little head off would result in your girly little head being lopped off."

He paused.

"I also wanted to show that you can trust me. I don't want to hurt you."

"Am I not supposed to be the one developing the trust here?"

He stood up and sat back on his chair. "Oh, sure sure. If that's what they teach you at 'Controlling Wackos School'. But to be honest doc, I don't like the cuffs. I'd much prefer it if you were the one tied up, but hey, this is only our second date. So I guess before you're willing to let me go hands free in your sessions I've gotta earn your trust. And then we can move on to getting the cuffs on you."

Quinzel hadn't been expecting this. The violent monster in her first session had definitely changed. But she knew what he was capable of, and this was surely just a ruse to get her to trust him. Before he stabbed her in the back and escaped.

But he was clearly capable of escaping without her help. He could have done it today, but he chose to come to her instead.

She wasn't surprised Dr Arkham had kept this guy from the other interns.

The guards came lumbering in before she had decided how best to begin this session. They ran over to the patient and cuffed him to the chair.

"That was close! He could have attacked you, doctor. Next time alert us to his whereabouts," one of the guards announced.

"It wasn't close at all," she cried indignantly. "He's been with me for ten minutes. If you'd bothered to turn up earlier then it would have been 'close'."

The guard looked just as confused as she felt.

"We're fine here, meathead," cackled her patient.

She didn't want to agree with him and make it seem like she was on his side, but the guards were now eating into her session. And it could prove interesting. "I think we should begin now. Thank you for your help, guys." The guards left the room, with three of them waiting on the bench outside to take him back to his cell when she was done.

"I think he likes you." Her patient didn't cackle, for once.

"Is someone a little jealous?" she smirked at him. Hey, if he was allowed to be a 'Joker' then so could she.

He pulled a face and ignored her question. "So, what happened with you and Dr Arkykins? I think my assumption yesterday was wrong. Very sorry about that by the way, I hadn't had my morning coffee and I was pissed that he'd passed me on to one of his pliable dolls. Especially after the hard work I'd had with that last doctor. I was certain he'd quit before I had chance to do some real damage. But no worries about that. He's in here with us mad lot now. So you see, I thought I'd earned the best new doc Arkham had and from the way you were dressed it seemed you were just his favourite doll of the day. An insult to my genius really. Although I wouldn't be surprised if he is boinking you on the sly."

"And why would you think that? I thought my outfit today had changed your mind."

"Well, if I were Dr Arkham I'd certainly make it my priority. Shame he's too focussed on keeping us lot controlled."

Quinzel laughed. "I think Dr Arkham has enough of the interns doing his bidding. Might as well let me go to keep the nutjobs under control. He wouldn't want any psychopaths barging in on his private time in his office."

"You've learned quickly, doc. Glad to see your weakness yesterday was just a blip. I hope Arkham didn't manage to utilise that moment to his advantage." The patient looked at her expectantly, as if he had asked a question.

"Are you asking me if I slept with Dr Arkham? Because that is none of your business. Why are you interested?"

"Well?"

She sighed. "No, I did not."

"Oh good," he smirked. "I want to keep you all to myself."

"I think we'll stop those sorts of comments. We're both professionals here, mister…"

"Joker."

"No, your real name."

"I don't have one, doc. Besides, you won't tell me yours. If you're gonna be doctor, then I'm gonna be joker. Professionals, yeah?"

He was clever. Witty. She didn't like it. He was probably cleverer than her; he just chose to apply his intelligence to crime rather than something useful.

"Well. What if I let you call me my real name?"

"That would be nice."

"Harleen."

"Well aren't we intimate now, Harlz."

"And your name?"

"Joker."

She sighed. It was a lot to expect in their first real session. "Fine. But I don't like it. I think I'll call you Mister J."

He smiled. A huge smile. Not like the one that accompanied his cackles. A real smile.

"I like that, Harley."


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm sorry for the break! I'm terrible at actually getting stuff done and I've been in work a lot + loads more excuses etc. I can't guarantee that I'll be updating this regularly but wow you guys are so encouraging! (I'm actually supposed to be doing some work right now but yeaaah)**

It only took a week for Harley to get obsessed. She'd even started referring to herself as Harley (in her head; she wouldn't let anyone know she'd become attached to a nickname given to her by a psychopath). It wasn't anything dangerous, she thought, just like the obsession she had with Pokémon when she was little. She wanted to know everything about him. Every session felt like she was learning more and more, and yet there was always new topics popping up that she hadn't thought about. It would take a whole lifetime to figure out what was going on in the Joker's head. And another to cure him.

But Harley didn't mind. She had all the time in the world; they claimed they were never letting the Joker free again. And he wouldn't escape unless he wanted to, and he claimed he enjoyed their sessions too much to try.

Believing compliments from a patient. What had become of her?

She laughed at herself. It was nice having a project again, even if it was a bit of an odd one.

He still occasionally escaped from his cell and came to her office of his own will, probably to just show the guards who was in charge. It didn't scared her, but she still handcuffed him to his chair. Not because she thought he might attack her; if he wanted to do that he could easily do when she entered the room. Because she was scared of what the other doctors would say if they found out. Hell, if Dr Arkham knew, she'd probably be kicked off this internship faster than she could cackle. And with less than two months left to go until it was over and she was able to become a permanent doctor here, she wasn't risking anything.

He'd broken into her office again today. Maybe she'd start leaving her door unlocked, to make things easier for him. Then again, nothing was ever broken; her office was always in perfect condition. It baffled the guards but it made Harley laugh.

Rather than assuming his regular position, reclining on her sofa, usually playing with one of her things, today he was at her desk, fiddling with something with his back turned to her.

"Well, well, Mr J. Do I have to call the guards? Breaking and entering is one thing, but messing with the order of my paperwork is another crime altogether."

The Joker spun around, grinning. "Hello, Harley Baby. Thought I'd get here early to fix you your morning coffee."

He handed her a mug of black coffee. She stared at it, dumbfounded.

He laughed, a much calmer and less creepy laugh than the cackle than he'd used in their first session. "I figured you need it. Whenever I let the guards escort me here you've always got your coffee and you seem chirpier. I guessed if I still want to come here on my own I've got some sucking up to do. Plus, you never let me take you for breakfast. This is the best I can do, in the circumstances."

No man had ever made coffee for her, never offered to take her for breakfast. "Brilliant," she thought, "the nicest guy I've ever met is a criminal mastermind."

She smiled at him silently and he grinned back. He picked up his handcuffs from the desk and handed them to her.

"Do the honours, doc?" As he placed the cuffs in her hand, his hand touched hers slightly and she pulled back in shock, dropping the cuffs. He grinned again, as if he expected it, and bent down to retrieve the cuffs. This time she grasped them firmly, but so did he. He stroked her hand, and, like Dr Arkham had done, took her chin in his other hand. No, not like Dr Arkham had done. He was much gentler, and less dominating. Which, when she thought about it later, was extremely bizarre. He leaned in and she panicked. She couldn't let a patient kiss her! Not _this_ patient! Not her first kiss in years! His lips gently collided with her cheek, only slightly touching the edge of her own lips.

"I just wanted to say thanks, Harlz, for sticking with me."

She wasn't sure if her heart was still beating. "I'd never give up on you."

Wow, that came out more sentimental that she had intended. He'd noticed and was grinning.

"I mean, I never give up on anything. Not until it's finished." She blushed.

"Hey, the majority of doctors I get say that at the beginning. They always give up though. Either that or I give up on them." Harley winced, knowing what his words meant. "But not you, doc. You're different from the rest of them."

He leaned back on her desk and looked her up and down. "Certainly cuter than the rest of them."

She blushed again. She had to somehow teach her cheeks to stop doing that.

"You're always smiling." Harley mumbled. Her heart was still confused from the kiss, although her brain had realised how entirely innocent it had been.

He grinned, as usual. "I don't normally. That's why I wear my make up, but they've taken it off me in here. I suppose I could get it back, but for the moment I've got you to make me smile instead."

"Oh you're such a charmer, Mr J," she chuckled. But she wasn't joking; he was certainly the most charming man she'd ever met.

"So," he said, sitting on his chair and letting Harley put his cuffs on, "you said you won't give up on me till I'm finished. When will you be happy with leaving me?"

She considered his question for a while as she got comfy in her chair and took a sip of her coffee. It was good coffee.

"I guess until you're allowed out of here, and we don't think you're gonna come back."

He cackled. "Doc, you lot don't even trust the less psycho patients when you release them. You ain't ever gonna be done with me, not until I die."

"Well, that sounds like a challenge to me."

His face was suddenly serious, "No, Harley. You don't get it. They're never letting me out of here. I mean, I'll escape when I feel like it, but don't you go wasting your breath praying for my sanity."

His tone frightened her but she pretended not to notice that he was no longer joking around. "If you're _never_ getting out, then I'm _never_ giving up," she said.

Silence.

"I mean, this job is all I've got anyway."

She slammed her hand over her mouth. Why did she tell him that? She was supposed to be analysing him, and here she was, revealing all her secrets.

He smiled again. "You don't have to panic, Harlz. I figured that much out already. No wedding ring. No pictures on your desk. You haven't taken any of your holidays throughout your whole internship. I checked your bag and you don't even carry a cell most of the time. Either you're really forgetful, which I know you ain't, or you've got no one to call."

She looked at her feet. She was ashamed. Her loneliness had never mattered because she'd never cared and no one else had ever noticed. But now her _patient_ was bringing it up.

"Don't worry, Harley," he said gently, "I haven't got anyone to call either.

She gave him a small smile. "Well, I've got a solution for both of us." She picked up a business card from her desk and put it in his waistcoat pocket. "You can ring me whenever. And I'll carry my cell around, just in case."

He cackled. "Cute. Just me and you in this, eh?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay I somehow massively messed up the order of my chapters and I think I managed to completely chop chapter 4 out… I am so so sorry! Thanks to thereallegend123 for pointing it out for me! Thank you to everyone for all the encouragement, it's so lovely to hear your nice words (especially after my first not so complimentary review!). Once again I feel like I should apologise for not updating in a while but having a job and going to college and being a good girlfriend takes a lot of time! Stick with me and I'll try and make it worth your while J**

Harley was on her way home when she met Pamela.

She'd had three patients after seeing the Joker first thing that morning, and although the sessions had proven to be on the whole useless, she was still buzzing from what she had achieved with Mr J. It might not have seemed much, but her (albeit accidental) personal revelation had encouraged him to trust her. If he had her cell number, he could contact whenever he felt like it. Her sessions didn't have to be limited to their morning hour anymore.

She had to stop herself from skipping down the corridors on her way out. All she had to do was waste her evening, then it was bedtime, and then it was time to see Mr J again. If there was something more to life than this, she wasn't interested. This was what she had worked so hard for all her life.

"Hey, doc. Come here."

A woman's voice. Harley paused. None of her patients were female. She wasn't even sure if there were any female patients in Arkham.

She looked down the corridor. There wasn't another doctor to be seen.

"In here, you idiot."

Harley stopped herself from protesting at the name-calling and turned to the cell to her right. This cell didn't have a barred door; it was a solid metal door, with both an electronic lock and a key. There was a sliding window at face-level, and Harley slid it open to reveal glass.

Staring back at her was a beautiful woman, with flowing red curls, deep green eyes and voluptuous lips. Her skin was pale, with a slight greenish tinge.

Harley was shocked. "Are you okay? Are you ill?"

The woman laughed. "Oh, honey. Yeah, I guess I am. I'm sick. And I'm certainly sick of this place."

She couldn't have been more than five years older than Harley. She had no right to be so patronising. Harley frowned.

"What do you want? I'm going home."

The woman smiled. "It's not about what I want, Harley."

Harley froze. How did she know her new nickname?

"I'm worried about what the Joker wants. You got time for a chat? Come inside."

Harley knew she shouldn't. But this woman knew about the Joker. She knew about Harley! But she had to act cool.

"Why should I talk to you about one of my patients? Besides, I can tell from this door that stepping into your cell is a bad idea."

"I'm not trying to talk to you about one of your _patients_, doctor. I want to talk about the Joker. I know what he's trying to get you to do and I want to figure you out for myself. And I'm guessing you want to know about him."

Harley gulped. The Joker wanted her to do something? And this woman was in on the plan. She didn't like the sound of this.

She ignored Harley's mood change and carried on talking. "You don't have to worry about coming in here. I'm not violent. Well. Not any more violent than your standard wackjobs. It's not me who can't be trusted. They've got these locks because the _guards_ can't be trusted. You see, I sort of have an effect on these guys… I don't know why but they seem to love me!"

Harley looked at the woman again. She wasn't surprised they loved her. She was a typical femme fatale, with the hair, the lips, her supple shoulders, her…

Harley's eyes snapped back up. Was she naked?!

The woman was smiling. "Anyway, for whatever reason, they keep trying to get in here. Or let me out. But you'll be fine… From what I've heard from the Joker, I'm not your type." She laughed. "My file's in Arkham's office. The key is attached to it. And Arkham knows the code. Good luck getting it, I can't imagine he's going to give you something for nothing."

The woman took a step back. Her cell was too dark for Harley to see anything. She shut the window and considered her situation. She had nothing better to do tonight. And she didn't like the sound of what this woman was saying.

She had thought Mr J was beginning to trust her. What if he was actually plotting something?

She had to find out. There was no other way. Besides, this patient could be interesting. Maybe if she asked Dr. Arkham she'd be able to have sessions with her too.

It was decided. Harley walked briskly to Arkham's office, crossing her fingers that he'd spent enough time with 'Charlotte' to not approach her again.


	8. Chapter 8

There was a different female intern outside his office this time. Pretty red hair – but not as pretty as the hair of the female prisoner. Harley ignored the stink-eye she was receiving from the girl and knocked on the door.

"I said just a minute!" a voice cried from within.

"It's Dr Quinzel," Harley replied. The door whipped open and Dr. Arkham stood in front of her, grinning.

"Harleen! Lovely to see you. Come straight in."

The redhead protested but Arkham didn't respond. He held the door open for Harley and then slammed it shut behind her. Harley heard a chair crash to the floor outside and suppressed a giggle.

"So, what can I help you with, Harleen? Things getting shaky with the Joker?"

Harley smiled. "Oh no, sir. Quite the opposite. I really feel like I'm getting somewhere with him. I did write about it in my report…"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you do. Most of his doctors do. But we're yet to get even a hint of his name yet."

"Well, sir, I'm not like most of his doctors. Which is why I'm here. I want to talk to the female patient, on corridor C. Miss Isley?"

"Crazy Ivy? And what makes you think you're ready to tackle another patient?"

Harley hadn't expected that. She'd assumed he'd just be glad to find a competent volunteer for the patient and a few bats of her eyelashes would win him over. Maybe Arkham wasn't as unprofessional as he seemed.

"Well… I guess since you were willing to let me talk to the Joker you'd let me talk to this patient. She can't be any worse than him… And he's been talking about her. I think they know each other. She might be the key for finding out the Joker's name."

Dr. Arkham's ears pricked up. Discovering the Joker's name meant discovering his history; the more evidence they had against him meant the more easily they could lock him in solitary confinement forever.

"Ok. She's yours. But I'm warning you. She's tricky. Different from the Joker. I guess you'd be ok… It's the male doctors I worry about. She even managed to get me to…" He coughed. "Just be careful. She can be persuasive. She used to be a doctor - well, more of an advanced botanist – but there was an accident of some sort and she hasn't been the same since."

"Brilliant!" Harley walked to the drawer where she knew he kept the files. He stopped her.

"No, Harleen. I'm serious about this. These patients are dangerous. There's a reason you're the only intern dealing with these guys, whilst Brittany out there is stuck with the ones throwing their own faeces at the walls. But just because you're more advanced than the rest doesn't mean you're invincible. These patients are clever. Much cleverer than you probably realise. You have to be careful around them. Or you'll end up like them. Pamela out there used to be a doctor and look at her now. Hell, she isn't the only doctor to end up like that. Look at my uncle…" Dr. Arkham trailed off. Everyone knew what had happened to the original Dr. Arkham, Amadeus, but no one would talk about it, especially not in the asylum where his nephew, the current Dr. Arkham, Jeremiah could hear. Harley didn't have any friends at the asylum, so she only knew as much as the papers were willing to print. Driven mad by his patients and the death of his family, he was now being treated – rather, incarcerated - at the hospital he built. And the only doctor who treated him was his nephew. In fact, Jeremiah refused to let any other doctors even see his uncle. Harley figured he was ashamed of how far his uncle had fallen, and if the doctors found out exactly what had happened to him they'd be scared of the same fate.

"Don't worry, Dr. Arkham. I'm strong. I'm not going to bring in my personal life." She smiled. She didn't mention that she had no personal life to mess up.


	9. Chapter 9

_Dr. Pamela Isley. Suspected that her subjection to experiments by Dr. Jason Woodrue (deceased) and subsequent infertility drove her to madness. Attempted destruction of Gotham City by the release of deadly spores, no deaths but several injured. Research needed into her methods of recruiting people for her crimes; possibly poison-related, however the 'hypnotising' effect she creates has continued despite all personal objects being confiscated. High majority of victims are male. Not usually violent._

Harley was feeling confident. Her first thought was that Pamela's relationship with an abusive man had caused her to feel mistrustful of men, and so she used her good looks to make her feel like she was in control. But the poison… Well, that bit worried her.

She slid back the window again.

"Miss Isley?" she stammered. Maybe the poison scared her more than she thought.

"It's Doctor Isley, not Miss. And you can call me Ivy."

"Alright, Red, I choose the names around here. Now before I come in I need you to explain this poison thing to me." This wasn't a woman who would respect anyone who wasn't confident, Harley thought.

There was a pause. "It's difficult to explain. I guess I can't really explain _why_ or _how_. But I do know how I can control it. If it makes you feel better, it works less well on those who don't find me attractive. Gay men and straight women and the like. And it's less effective while I'm in here. I won't promise that I'm not gonna hurt you, but I don't intend to. We need you."

Harley didn't like the sound of that, but it was better than nothing. "Second thing," she said, confidently. "I'm going to need you to put some clothes on."

She'd put a shirt on. It was a start.

Her beautiful red hair flowed down to her waist and Harley couldn't help but be envious; her own hair had always been long enough and in good condition, but it was a dull mousy colour and she hadn't the courage to dye it.

Her skin _was_ green-tinged, and from her feet upwards she had thin vines twisting around her body. They looked real but Harley had no idea how she'd managed to attach them or keep them alive while in the asylum. The vines had leaves covering… certain places… but if anything the concealment just drew more attention. She'd thrown on a maroon shirt that was several sizes too small and Harley couldn't help but notice the Arkham logo over the pocket. And the size of what was under the shirt.

_Jesus._

She was a goddess. Even her feet were perfect, dainty and pale, wrapped in the elegant vines. She put Charlotte and Brittany and every other girl Harley had met to shame.

"The way you're staring makes me think the Joker was wrong about me not being your type," Ivy smirked.

Harley blushed and forgot all about the confident doctor she was trying to be. She was back as teenager Harleen who got a detention for skipping sex ed, only to have her teacher let her off in front of the whole class because she "probably didn't need to be there anyway". Teenager Harleen whose best (and only) friend ignored her when rumours spread about the possibility of a more than platonic relationship between them.

"I don't have a type." Harley mumbled. But Ivy misunderstood.

"Oh how very modern of you. Maybe I should cover up then."

Harley blushed the deepest crimson and Ivy laughed before reclining on her bed. "It's fun to watch you squirm, Harley girl. But I haven't got all night, one of the guards will be popping by later and I imagine your presence will unsettle him. You know what they're like. So. The Joker. What do you think?"

"I don't think I should be discussing patients' cases with other…"

Ivy interrupted her. "What have I told you? Not a patient. _The Joker_. I'm not interested in whatever diagnosis you've come up with. He's just not like you lot and you all need to get that in your thick educated skulls. What I'm asking you is, do you like him?"

Harley was stunned. "L-l-like him? What do you mean?"

"Do you wanna take him out for dinner? Hold his creepy hand? Ride him cowgirl style? You know, _like him _like him?"

Harley blushed again and said nothing.

Ivy rolled her eyes. "What do they even teach you at college these days? The other interns seem to know enough about the birds and the bees, or at least that's what I've gathered from Dr. Arkham. Kinky guy for a professional. Slimy too. He didn't even need much persuading to set me free the first time."

Harley stared at her feet. This session was even weirder than the ones she had with the Joker.

Ivy sat up. "Look, I can see subtle hints are nothing when it comes to you. The Joker's into you. Won't shut up about you in fact. I've been planning an escape from here for weeks but he's refusing to co-operate because he wants you, and I'm bored of it. I can't get out of here on my own because Dr. Arkham's figured me out and stopped the guards from getting near enough to me."

That kind of talk was enough to snap Harley out of her embarrassment. "You're trying to break out and you want the Joker to help you? And you're telling _me_ this? Are you an idiot?"

"Maybe." Ivy replied. "But probably not. I've never seen the Joker like this before so I figured you must be something special. And no offence honey, you're pretty and all, but you're no me, and the Joker's never resisted my charms. Always assumed he was asexual, too focused on his great plans to think of women. Or men. Until you came along and got under his skin. I imagine it's something to do with that bashful innocence of yours. So corruptible." Ivy slid off the bed and was next to Harley in what seemed like a single elegant movement. Her hand stroked Harley's hair and she breathed into her ear. "I can see why he finds you so tempting."

Harley stumbled backwards. What was it with this place and the sudden sexual advances? She'd gone her whole life unmolested and within the space of a few short weeks three different people had approached her.

Ivy giggled. "See, I told you my poisons would be less effective. Normally I'd have men eating out of my hand from a seductive glance, but you're still running away." She leaned against the wall. "So, why am I telling you all about my plan to escape when you could rat me out? Well, firstly, nothing you do, short of sending me and Joker to separate asylums, can stop me. And secondly, I think you _do_ like the Joker, and the fact you've been oh so innocent up to now is just going to make falling for him even more dangerous. Well, dangerous for Dr Quinzel. Fabulous for Harley."

"I'll tell Arkham what you're up to. He'll send you to a different asylum."

Ivy moved closer again. "And where's he gonna send me, huh? Nowhere else has the facilities to keep me shut away, stop my poisons. Nowhere else has guards who have known me long enough to know what I'll do if they get close. I'll be out of wherever you send me within 24 hours; if you even manage to get me there."

She was breathing in Harley's ear again. "I'll… I'll…" Ivy nibbled lightly on her earlobe "I'll get them to move Mr J."

"And separate you from your sweetheart? You couldn't do it."

Harley turned to face her. "Now that's enough! I'm a professional and I'll do what…" The rest of the sentence never made it out of her mouth, as it was blocked by Ivy's voluptuous lips. "I'm a professional and I'll do what it takes to sort you crazies out," Harley thought, but her mouth was too busy kissing Ivy back. It wasn't anything like her prom kiss, all toothy and filled with saliva. Ivy's lips were soft and gentle, she kissed her slowly and Harley found herself lightly tapping the beautiful woman's lip with her tongue. Ivy took this as an invitation and deepened the kiss, raising her hand to Harley's breast. Harley gasped and took a step back, breaking away.

"What did you… I need to…" Harley fumbled with the lock of the cell door and Ivy chuckled.

"Sorry. Got carried away. The Joker won't be happy that I've already started corrupting his little angel."

Harley managed to get the door open and quickly slammed it behind her, but the window was still slid back.

"Harley!" the voice from within shouted, but she continued locking the door. "Just so you know what a little minx you are… I didn't even have to use my poisons." She laughed again and Harley slid the window back with a bang, before sprinting home as fast she could.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Yeah I suck. I kinda gave up on this story but I'm suddenly awake at 2am and thinking about my favourite couple. Here we go...**_

And so Harley spent another night alone in bed, sobbing. She'd kissed a patient. No doubt Ivy would have told on her by now and she'd be escorted into Arkham's office as soon as she arrived for work tomorrow.

What scared her the most was the fear of being caught. Not the fear of what she had done. A few months ago and she would have quit herself if this had happened. But now? Kissing patients seemed part of the job description. Hell, it was almost _fun_.

She sobbed some more, and fell asleep.

* * *

She felt sick as she walked into the asylum. And sure enough there was a notice on her office door from Dr. Arkham, demanding she come to him at once. No point in delaying it, she thought, as she walked to his office.

Or is there? If it's my last shift…

She decided to take the slightly longer walk to his office. Past Mr J's cell.

She slid open the window and saw him lying face down on his bed.

"Still sleepin', Mr J?" she sang.

Silence.

"Mr J, are you ok?"

"Leave me alone."

She frowned. "Don't like being disturbed in the mornings, huh?"

"Why don't you go bother Ivy instead?"

Shit. News spread fast.

"Ivy? Are you jealous I've got a new patient, J?" she stuttered.

Silence again.

She sighed. "I'll see you in a few hours, Mr J." I hope.

She walked slowly to Arkham's office. She wasn't ready to leave, even if it was for the best. She'd got too involved with her patients and she only had two. But if she left now, all her work and stress would be for nothing. Her eyes welled up as she knocked on the door.

"Come in."

She walked into the office and burst into tears. "I don't want to go, please don't fire me!" she sobbed.

Arkham looked confused. "Fire you? Why would I…?"

Harley continued to sob. His frown suddenly lightened. "Do you think I called you here to fire you?" She nodded. He started to laugh.

"Oh Harleen."

At that, she stopped crying and gritted her teeth.

He smirked, "I'm not going to fire you. I was going to offer you something I thought you may turn down, but now I have reason to believe otherwise… There's a few weeks left of your internship, but I don't see the point in wasting time. We need you here. To be on call and all that jazz. We'll give you a new office, with a bed for emergencies. What do you say to being a full-time doc?"

Harley bounced across the office and hugged Arkham.

"Yes! I'd love to! Thank you so much!" she squealed, ignoring him groping her behind.


	11. Chapter 11

The rest of the day was a dream. She got the keys to her new office which had two rooms, the first even bigger than her original office and the second with a bed and a lamp. Comfier than the patients' beds, too. She met a few of her new regular patients; now she was a full-time doc all of her day was filled with appointments rather than the dull paperwork that interns faced.

She was so busy she forgot to count down to her meeting with the Joker, which had been changed to her last appointment of the day now. She only remembered when she heard clattering and shouting from the corridor. She rushed out of her office to see what was going on and her heart sank to see Mr J being dragged by three guards. He was kicking and screaming.

"I'm not seeing that slut again! I'll fucking murder you all before I talk to her!"

Her heart raced. So much progress, ruined. The guards cuffed him to his chair, both arms and legs, and left the room to sit outside. The one who Mr J accused of having a crush on her handed her a little device.

"A panic button. We figured you need it. We'll be outside."

"Thanks," she said, glumly. He flashed her a sympathetic grin and closed the door behind him gently.

The Joker had gone silent and was staring at the ground. Her heart was still racing. How on earth do you get a patient to trust you after you kissed another patient? He clearly thought she was the most unprofessional doctor out there. And two of his killed themselves.

She quietly sat in the chair opposite him. A few moments of silence passed before she could pluck up the courage to speak.

"Well I thought you were going to be happy to know I'm a full-time doctor now. We were getting along great."

"I bet Ivy's happy," he snarled, still avoiding her gaze.

She paused. "Why do you keep bringing up Pamela?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.

His head snapped up and he glared at her. "Cuz you wanna fuck her, don't you _Harleen?_"

She was terrified. "That is ridiculous statement. And unfounded."

He stared at the floor again.

She sighed. "I know that a lot of doctors here have a… soft spot for Ivy. I mean, Pamela. But I am a professional." And a big fat liar, she thought. "I don't have favourite patients. And I certainly do not want to… _fuck_… any of you."

The Joker grinned and it was like a weight lifted off her shoulders. Nearly back to his normal… crazy… self.

"Not any of us? Though I suppose you're not the kind of girl who would fuck. You'd _make love_. Sweet."

She blushed. "Let's get on with the session, shall we?"

He grinned again. "Session? Like your make out session with Ivy last night, huh?"

Fuck. She coughed. "Now I don't…"

"No use in denying it, Harley Baby. Ivy told me all about it. As we watched and erased it from the security camera. Gotta say I wish I kept a copy for myself… I mean of course I was so jealous I wanted to rip her little ginger head off but I can't deny loving a bit of girl on girl…"

She was crimson. Goddamn it.

He cackled. "Don't worry, princess, I won't tell that perv Dr A. He'd wanna see for himself, wouldn't he?" His smile vanished. "But don't be doing it again. You're MINE, you hear me?"

"I'm not _anyone's,_ Mr J. I'm a person, not a toy. And I can be both your doctor and Pamela's. This is very childish behaviour. Were you an only child, by any chance, Mr J?" Very professional, she thought.

He clenched his fists and she was glad for the cuffs.

"You're a fucking slut," he snarled, "How fucking dare you walk around here like you're all prim and proper and acting like a fucking virgin when you're whoring yourself out to everyone who asks for it."

Harley jumped up, grabbed her mug and smashed it onto the floor in front of him. "I am NOT a slut!" she screamed.

Silence. The Joker stared at the ceramic pieces on the floor. Then grinned, as usual.

"Fiesty. Maybe I like what Ivy did to you."

She went red with anger. "Ivy did NOTHING to me. Stop talking about her."

"Stop denying your lesbian tendencies then, doc."

"I am not a lesbian."

"Then uncuff me and prove it. I'll show you a far better time than Ivy, you dirty little whore. Does Daddy need to spank you?" He cackled and Harley sank back into her chair. The sexual harassment was better than verbal abuse, she figured.

He smiled at her. "Sorry for getting angry, Harley Baby. I was jealous. You're supposed to be my little princess."

She couldn't help but feel warmed by that, though that reaction made her hate herself. "Shall we continue with the session?" she asked, picking up the clipboard.


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of the day was a dream. She got the keys to her new office which had two rooms, the first even bigger than her original office and the second with a bed and a lamp. Comfier than the patients' beds, too. She met a few of her new regular patients; now she was a full-time doc all of her day was filled with appointments rather than the dull paperwork that interns faced.

She was so busy she forgot to count down to her meeting with the Joker, which had been changed to her last appointment of the day now. She only remembered when she heard clattering and shouting from the corridor. She rushed out of her office to see what was going on and her heart sank to see Mr J being dragged by three guards. He was kicking and screaming.

"I'm not seeing that slut again! I'll fucking murder you all before I talk to her!"

Her heart raced. So much progress, ruined. The guards cuffed him to his chair, both arms and legs, and left the room to sit outside. The one who Mr J accused of having a crush on her handed her a little device.

"A panic button. We figured you need it. We'll be outside."

"Thanks," she said, glumly. He flashed her a sympathetic grin and closed the door behind him gently.

The Joker had gone silent and was staring at the ground. Her heart was still racing. How on earth do you get a patient to trust you after you kissed another patient? He clearly thought she was the most unprofessional doctor out there. And two of his killed themselves.

She quietly sat in the chair opposite him. A few moments of silence passed before she could pluck up the courage to speak.

"Well I thought you were going to be happy to know I'm a full-time doctor now. We were getting along great."

"I bet Ivy's happy," he snarled, still avoiding her gaze.

She paused. "Why do you keep bringing up Pamela?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.

His head snapped up and he glared at her. "Cuz you wanna fuck her, don't you _Harleen?_"

She was terrified. "That is ridiculous statement. And unfounded."

He stared at the floor again.

She sighed. "I know that a lot of doctors here have a… soft spot for Ivy. I mean, Pamela. But I am a professional." And a big fat liar, she thought. "I don't have favourite patients. And I certainly do not want to… _fuck_… any of you."

The Joker grinned and it was like a weight lifted off her shoulders. Nearly back to his normal… crazy… self.

"Not any of us? Though I suppose you're not the kind of girl who would fuck. You'd _make love_. Sweet."

She blushed. "Let's get on with the session, shall we?"

He grinned again. "Session? Like your make out session with Ivy last night, huh?"

Fuck. She coughed. "Now I don't…"

"No use in denying it, Harley Baby. Ivy told me all about it. As we watched and erased it from the security camera. Gotta say I wish I kept a copy for myself… I mean of course I was so jealous I wanted to rip her little ginger head off but I can't deny loving a bit of girl on girl…"

She was crimson. Goddamn it.

He cackled. "Don't worry, princess, I won't tell that perv Dr A. He'd wanna see for himself, wouldn't he?" His smile vanished. "But don't be doing it again. You're MINE, you hear me?"

"I'm not _anyone's,_ Mr J. I'm a person, not a toy. And I can be both your doctor and Pamela's. This is very childish behaviour. Were you an only child, by any chance, Mr J?" Very professional, she thought.

He clenched his fists and she was glad for the cuffs.

"You're a fucking slut," he snarled, "How fucking dare you walk around here like you're all prim and proper and acting like a fucking virgin when you're whoring yourself out to everyone who asks for it."

Harley jumped up, grabbed her mug and smashed it onto the floor in front of him. "I am NOT a slut!" she screamed.

Silence. The Joker stared at the ceramic pieces on the floor. Then grinned, as usual.

"Fiesty. Maybe I like what Ivy did to you."

She went red with anger. "Ivy did NOTHING to me. Stop talking about her."

"Stop denying your lesbian tendencies then, doc."

"I am not a lesbian."

"Then uncuff me and prove it. I'll show you a far better time than Ivy, you dirty little whore. Does Daddy need to spank you?" He cackled and Harley sank back into her chair. The sexual harassment was better than verbal abuse, she figured.

He smiled at her. "Sorry for getting angry, Harley Baby. I was jealous. You're supposed to be my little princess."

She couldn't help but feel warmed by that, though that reaction made her hate herself. "Shall we continue with the session?" she asked, picking up the clipboard.


	13. Chapter 13

"Why do you always sit so far away? I thought we were friends, doc?"

Because I'm scared, Mr J. Not scared of you hurting me, no no. Scared because I've already made out with a different patient and a guard and I keep having amazing sex dreams about you where we confess our love for each other. She bit her lip.

"Fine," she grumbled, and sat on the sofa, leaving enough distance between them for two grown men.

"I guess it's a start," he said, stretching his feet out onto her lap. She shoved them off and he grinned, and she couldn't help grinning back.

It had been weeks since her 'date' with Jeffrey and she'd failed dramatically. She forgot that phone calls were part of the dating thing and missed three of his calls. Since then he stopped ringing, stopped escorting her patients to her and stopped smiling at her in the staff room. But Fiona had stayed her friend, which was nice. She had a soft spot for Jeffrey and Harley hoped it worked out for them in the end. Even if that did mean she was going to end up dying a spinster with a catalogue of still crazy patients.

Though she felt she was getting somewhere with the Joker. The guards didn't wait outside anymore, and she left her panic button on the desk these days. He didn't need cuffing and they had deep conversations about his life. And her life. If he weren't a patient she'd consider him her closest friend.

"You know, Harl, you're my closest friend." She stared at him. Since when was he a mind-reader?

"I guess that's not saying much," he continued, "The only person who talks to me apart from you is Ivy, and usually we just talk about you. Why did they let Penguin out? He was always up for a laugh."

"Exactly what have you and Ivy been saying about me? And how on earth do you manage to contact her?"

He cackled, "Baby, that would be telling. You're great and all but you're too much of a suck-up. You'd get me in trouble."

"Would not." she pouted.

"Is Princess sulking? You gotta admit, Harlz, you're a big nerd." She punched him on the arm and he grabbed her wrist and stared at her.

She squirmed and tried to free her wrist.

"Harley." His tone was so severe she paused and stared at him. "Run away with me."

She giggled. "What?"

"I'm not joking. For a change. Fuck this job. It's useless. You're not going to change anyone. They're all loopy."

"I changed you, didn't I?" She bit her lip. She didn't like this serious Joker. It made no sense.

"I'm still the same psycho. Don't kid yourself, baby. You've just found another side to me. I kinda like it. I'd kill for you, princess. It's nice to have a reason to kill."

She bounced off the sofa. "You're insane. I don't want you to kill anyone."

"Insane? Me? Coulda told me earlier," he straightened up on the sofa. "But I won't kill anyone. For now. If anyone stands in the way of you and me getting out of here though…"

"Stop it!" she shouted. "I'm not running away with you! Jesus Christ!"

"Lighten up, Harl. It doesn't have to be today." He pulled her arm and she tumbled into his lap, then scrambled to the other end of the sofa, smoothing her skirt down.

"Too late!" he said, "I saw."

She looked at him, puzzled.

"I saw the frilly pants. And the suspenders. Nice."

She cringed. Maybe she had taken to wearing nice underwear. It made her feel… pretty. "You're wildly inappropriate."

"And that's why you love me. Carry on being a nice doctor lady then, I'll shut up about our great escape."

She looked down at the clipboard. "I have to do some evaluation stuff with you today. About how you've found our sessions."

"Ooh. How I've found our sessions… Erotic. Arousing. Tantalizing. Stimulating."

"Mr J."

"Oh shush. You can put stimulating, that one isn't always rude. You really _penetrated_ to the root of my problems." She sighed. "Fine, fine! I'll be serious. But you gotta scooch on over here and sit next to me." She suppressed another sigh and moved up the sofa.

"Ok. So first question. What has been the best part of our sessions, for you?"

"Your bottom. I'M JOKING. Your tits. No, seriously now. It's been nice… getting to know you. Getting to know someone. And not wanting to shoot 'em in the face. I've never really felt that with anyone before, you know? Even pretty girls. They all annoy me."

"Forming a relationship? That's a good answer."

"Steady on there Harlz I didn't say anything about a relationship, I was just looking for some good times. I'm JOKING. Yeah, a relationship. I'm not joking about you running away with me. I'll even let you call yourself my girlfriend."

"And how would you improve our sessions?"

"Less clothing."

"Joker."

"Fine. I need more time with you."

"Longer sessions… Any other comments?"

"Yeah, a few. You're the best doctor they've got here. I think you deserve a gold star or something. But I also think you're way better than this place. You should get out. Find a nice guy and settle down. I know you'll never give in and be mine, Harley, I ain't good enough for you. But that guard that used to fawn over you. I bet they're all like that. You're beautiful. And kind. And smart. And funny. Not as funny as me, mind, but who is? I want you to be happy and you won't get that by sitting in this shitty office and asking me about my abandonment issues for the rest of your life."

Silence.

"I…. I don't think I can write that on this form," she stuttered, looking down.

He grabbed her face and pulled her roughly to look at him. "Harley, what I'm saying is. Goddamn. Fuck. Put that fucking clipboard down. Harley I'm trying to say…. What I'm trying to say is. I love you. I love you, Harley Baby. Ain't that funny? I'm the Joker and I'm in love with my quack." He turned away.

"I… I don't think it's funny."

"Why not? It's the joke of the century."

"I. I don't know what to say."

"Wow, Harl, you're a real heart-breaker." He stared at her and she could see the hurt in his eyes. It was weird. She dropped her clipboard. He sighed and leaned forward to pick it up for her.

This is your chance, Harleen, she thought.

"Oh fuck it!" she muttered, and grabbed his face, kissing him roughly on the mouth.

"Mmff!" he exclaimed, before kissing her back, placing one hand on her thigh and one behind her head, tangling his fingers into her hair. She nibbled lightly on his face and he cackled before pushing her backwards against the sofa and deepening the kiss.

"I love you, Harley Baby," he whispered into her ear.

"I love you too, puddin'." she whispered back.

He broke away. "Puddin'? Huh. I kinda like it." He rubbed his nose against hers and she grinned and kissed him again.

"I'm totally gonna lose my job," she whispered between kisses.

"I won't tell if you won't," he traced a finger down her spine and she shivered. "Besides, why would the girlfriend of the biggest criminal mastermind need a dumbass job?" His finger reached the bottom of her spine and he moved his hand to her shoulder and pushed her backwards and clambered on top of her. His other hand continued to stroke her thigh. He flicked her suspender strap and cackled to himself before snapping it open. She tried to tell him to stop but he kissed her harder and her words fell away. His hand moved to the other leg and unsnapped the other straps. He moved his mouth lower to kiss her neck and her words came back.

"Please, I've never… I don't know how…"

He grinned, "I knew that little innocent act was too believable. Don't you worry…" He kissed her fiercely on the mouth before returning to her neck. His hand drew spirals on her bare thigh, slowly getting higher as his mouth kissed lower. He paused at her chest and kissed each breast. Her heart was pounding so hard she was surprised he couldn't hear it. She swallowed hard and shut her eyes to avoid his gaze.

His spiralling hand had reached the top of her leg and he grasped her knickers. He rubbed her and she bit her lip.

"Jesus Harley, you're soaking," he cackled as she turned bright red. He ran his finger under her waistband before slowly pulling them down. He rubbed her again, this time parting her and touching… She clamped her teeth down to stop her from screaming out.

His mouth began to follow the spirals his fingers had traced, kissing gently before reaching where his hand was massaging. "Every part of you is beautiful, princess," she heard him mutter before his tongue collided with her and all thoughts scattered from her brain. Her legs wrapped around his head and tightened, pulling him in closer. She tangled her hands in his emerald hair as he continued to draw small circles around her clitoris with his tongue. She almost screamed again, but this time let it out as a laugh.

It was kinda funny, after all.

He began to kiss her thighs again, then sat up and pulled her onto his lap.

"Looks like our time is over, baby." He leaned in to kiss her again and she jumped back. He looked puzzled.

"I'm… I'm sorry…" she muttered. "I was stupid. I don't know what I was thinking."

He laughed. "Come on Harlz. I think we're past that."

"Is that how you do it then?" she snapped. "Get us so confused we let you in, then destroy us? Did you think I forgot about the other doctors? Jesus fucking Christ I'm an idiot." She quickly pulled her knickers back on and tried to fasten her suspenders but her hands were shaking. "I'll get you transferred to a new doctor tomorrow. I shouldn't have been so dumb."

He shook his head. "The one time I'm actually not joking and this is what I get. Look, Harlz. Harley. _Dr Quinzel._ Read the case notes if you think that's true. If you think I fuck all my doctors. I didn't even fuck you, jeez."

"Yeah only because I said not to! I bet you got them to welcome it!"

He blinked at her. "Harley. I haven't fucked any of my doctors. Jesus. I haven't fucked _anyone_, in fact. Write that on your clipboard. Joker can't get any. Nearest he gets is this dumbass doctor who thinks it's all a trick. What a joke."

Her eyes welled up and she whimpered.

"Oh, Harley, you're not a dumbass."

"I'm not crying about _that_! My career is ruined."

He cackled again.

"Stop laughing!"

He coughed. "Yeah. Sorry. I already told you. You don't need a job. I'm your Daddy, I'll look after you, princess. If you'll let me."

She sat down next to him and let him put his arm around her.

"I need to think."

He nodded, kissing her head. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

She sighed. "I guess I don't really have a choice, do I? I can't stay here."

"You could do. I wouldn't tell. I turned the security camera off in here weeks ago and no one's noticed. The guards don't seem to be bothered about how long we've been in here. Or your strange orgasmic laughing." She slapped his leg. "I guess that's why they call me the Joker. But seriously, Harlz. It's up to you. You can stay here and give me a new doc and we'll pretend nothing ever happened. My tiny little heart will be forever broken and I'll probably kill a few people but you could keep your boring life. Or. Run away with me. Be my princess and I'll look after you. Bonnie and Clyde and all that shit." He kissed her head again.

"Jesus," she muttered. "What the hell happened to me? I was such a promising student."

"I have that effect." She slapped his leg again.

"Well there's no way I can stay here. Not without you. You're right, this job is boring as hell. Plus you're a way better kisser than Jeffrey."

He laughed. "Glad to hear… Wait, you kissed that snotty ball of crap? God you got around."

She stuck his tongue out at him and he stuck his right back before kissing her.

"So now what, puddin'?" she asked, climbing back onto his lap.

"Well, now we start the plan. Me and Ivy have been thinking it up since you started, she'll be glad to hear she can finally get out."


	14. Chapter 14

**_Well, it's kinda typical of me to ignore this whole thing for six months and then I stay up til 4am writing. Please review because it probably made no sense!_**

She didn't cry herself to sleep that night. So she'd ruined everything she'd ever wanted. So what? It hadn't been all it had cracked up to be, had it? The only reason she still liked it was because of Mr J. And now… Now she was going to spend all her time with him.

Unless it was all a trick. She was still terrified. But she loved him, she truly loved him, and it was useless trying to fight it now.

His plan barely involved her, which was reassuring. All she needed to do was distract Dr. Arkham and leave her keys on the hook in her office where she always left them. Mr J and Ivy were doing the rest. She was interested to see how they managed it; he made it sound so easy. She'd asked why he hadn't bothered before.

"Oh Harley," he cackled, "I've been waiting for you."

He wouldn't tell her any specific details in case she told anyone. She thought that was funny. Neither of them could trust each other though they both so desperately wanted to.

She went to sleep early. She had a big day after all. And it was pretty pointless reading her patients' files now.

* * *

Harley felt a bit stupid doing her make up in the morning. She had tried to model herself on the girl who was waiting outside Arkham's office but she couldn't make her hair curl the same, so she'd tied it on pigtails with floppy bangs in what she hoped was an innocent-but-sexy style. She'd over powdered her face and put too much dark eyeshadow on but the dark red lips were nice. She quite liked it just because she looked so different from the girl who was nearly assaulted by Arkham. She felt confident. Changed.

She didn't walk past the Joker's cell on her way in case it seemed suspicious even though she was desperate to check he still wanted her. If he had ever really wanted her. She unlocked her office door, put her coat down and put the keys on the hook before making herself a cup of coffee. She had an hour before her first patient. She washed her cup and walked out, shutting the door behind her. Pausing to make sure it didn't somehow lock itself.

Arkham wasn't in his office when she arrived, but it was unlocked. Well, at least that proved the doctors in this place were pretty shoddy with locks. She took a deep breath and quietly entered his office.

She knew what the plan was but she had no idea how best to execute it. She sat in the chair opposite his desk. Too formal. She leaned on the desk. Too dangerous, she could fall or smash something. She sat in his chair. Too pushy. He was going to arrive soon. Crap. She saw a bookshelf in the corner and hurried to inspect it. She tripped over the lamp cord, stumbled, and crashed head over heels onto his chair, her legs flailing over the arm.

"Er… Harleen?"

Shit. She wriggled her skirt down and pretended to sit casually. "Er… Call me Harley, sir."

Arkham looked confused… Not surprising. "That's my chair… Harley."

"Oh, I know. I was just… checking it for you." She bounced out of it. "I just wanted to… thank you." Was she sounded sexy enough? She looked down and then peered at him from under her eyelashes. "For the job. Sir."

He smiled, "Now Harley, if we're on nickname terms, you can call Remy."

She bit her lip to not laugh. Remy? Remy?!

"Ok… Remy," she said, in what she thought was a husky voice, and smiled coyly.

"I like the new hair-do, Harley," he said, walking towards her.

"Thank you, sir…. Remy," she giggled. He twirled a part of her bangs in his fingers and she touched his hand gently. He leaned towards her and she gulped… And then through the door's window saw Jeffrey stumbling wildly down the corridor.

"Let's shut the blind shall we!" she squealed, running to the door. "Much more intimate, right!" What the hell was Jeffrey doing? She hoped he didn't ruin it all.

Arkham looked a little puzzled but grabbed her again. Jeez, nothing stops this guy, she thought as he tried to stick his tongue down her mouth and grobed at her shirt.

"Oh Remy," she said tonelessly, "Don't stop, don't stop." There was a crash from outside. "I need you!" Harley screamed, pushing him onto the chair, hoping he was sufficiently distracted.

"Did you just hear…?" he asked, trying to peer through the blinds, before she shoved her face on his and climbed onto his lap.

Another crash. "REMY! Take me now!" She was panicking. He was going to notice at some point and she wasn't being a very convincing actor.

Convincing enough, apparently, as he continued to paw at her and fumbled with his belt.

"I've been waiting for this day since I met you, Harleen."

She gritted her teeth. "Yeah, me too." The crashing had stopped. Mr J was going to come crashing in any minute now. Any minute. Arkham was taking his time with his belt. Maybe she was expected to help out. She squinted, trying to see through the blinds. He'd managed the belt and was now twiddling with her suspenders. Nowhere near as suave as Mr J. Where was he?!

Her heart sank. He wasn't coming for her. He'd used her and she had been stupid enough to expect otherwise. She pushed Arkham's hands off her.

"Sorry, sir… I just… I'm not…" she backed away.

"What's up, doc!" The door smashed open and the Joker charged in. "Get your pervy hands off my girl!"

Arkham jumped up and his trousers fell to his ankles. "Harleen, watch out!" he yelled, trying to grab his waistband.

The Joker cackled. "Who the fuck's Harleen, doc? Are you talking to my little harlequin?"

There was a huge crash and suddenly there was a high security van in the office. Harley screamed and saw Jeffrey at the driver's wheel, with Ivy stroking his neck and whispering into his ear. He looked like he was a million miles away.

She looked back to Mr J and grinned. "You came back for me!"

"Of course I did, princess! And I brought you a gift." He handed her a red and black sledgehammer.

"Oh Mr J! It's perfect!"

Arkham made a run for the door but the Joker grabbed him by the collar. "Do the honours, Harley?"

"Gladly!" she squealed, lifting the hammer high above her head.

**_THE END. _**


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